


Ingredients

by meanderingsoul



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Affection, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Friendship/Love, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanderingsoul/pseuds/meanderingsoul
Summary: Phil set his forehead against their pantry door for a moment.





	Ingredients

**Author's Note:**

> This little ficlet is set nowhere in particular and is entirely based off of a lovely gifset by fansofsonofcoul. I originally posted it on tumblr with the gifset, but I already can't find it easily anymore. Tumblr eats things.
> 
> Go admire the gifset [ here ](http://fanofsonofcoul.tumblr.com/post/135313309429) before reading for the full fluffy effect.

 

“You said we should have stir fry. I texted you on my way back and you said we should have stir fry tonight.”

“Yup.”

“With  _what_?” Phil asked, staring into their fridge. Their basically empty fridge.

May put a piece of zucchini in her mouth and contentedly picked up another carrot. “I just chopped everything.”

“Right. Zucchini, carrots, and onions is all that goes in stir fry.”

She shrugged. “I’m not cooking it.”

“I can’t cook it  _either_. Mel, the only stuff in our fridge is sriracha, maple syrup, and the beer you don’t even like. What have you been  _eating_ while I was in Canada with Daisy?” he asked, but the empty fruit bowl and the two, completely different, almost-empty bags of rice spoke for themselves.

Phil set his forehead against their pantry door for a moment.

Under the clacking of the knife on the cutting board, he could hear faint crunching sounds.

“Melinda.”

“Hm?”

“Stop eating the dinner I haven’t even cooked yet.”

May crunched down on another neat slice of vegetable and smirked at him.

Phil pulled at his tie. He didn’t miss wearing the damn things all the time. “Do we at least have ginger somewhere?”

They ended up with vegetables cooked in grated ginger and soy sauce from the big handful of takeout packets she’d finally found in the back of a drawer, all dumped over top of mixed-up brown and white rice.

It was enough for an edible dinner for the two of them. They’d definitely eaten a lot worse in their time.

They sat at the counter, their kitchen counter, shoulder to shoulder to eat. He’d changed shirts before messing with the little sauce packets. The soft, thin fabric of her blue shirt was warm against his bare arm.

Phil smiled when he heard her scraping more onto her plate when his back was turned, grabbing a second beer from the fridge. They weren’t on call anymore, not really.

He nuzzled his face against her hair before he sat back down, pressed his lips to her temple, salt-sweat and jasmine and less gunpowder tang than there’d used to be. “You’re coming to the store with me tomorrow.”

“No.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> (365 words was totally by accident but I'm gonna be happy about it anyways.)


End file.
